


Queen of the Castle

by Spocksandshoes



Category: DA:I, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Schmoop, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spocksandshoes/pseuds/Spocksandshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra is an awkward romantic.<br/>Josephine is a ruthlessly efficient ray of sunshine.<br/>And Cassandra might sort of be falling for her. A lot.</p><p>Ahh, Love. Only problem is, they're both sort of awful at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Sea and Sky

The Lady Josephine Montilyet was a skilled diplomat.

One of the best, if you were to believe the rumors, but given that she could ruin a marriage with a handkerchief and ten minutes, Cassandra was inclined to not ask for proof.

Josephine was also skilled at seemingly anything she put her mind to. The result of years of study, she claimed. And as impressed -and creeped out- as the Seeker had been by seeing the Antivan effortlessly puppeteer ambassador and royalty alike, she was slightly more impressed- and creeped out- by Josephine’s ability to get into her head.

Maybe it’s because she expected sweet, thoughtful Josephine to be a pacifist, but no, Josephine Montilyet was a master at verbal sparring. When Josie was happy, Skyhold bloomed with flowers. Small, adorable animals appeared to the delight of the children and civilians in the encampment. The drapes were aired, the bards played better, and the smell of perfume and the sound of laughter was everywhere.

When Josie was in a bad mood…

The first time she witnessed this first-hand, Cassandra was pacing in the war room, muttering to herself. Dawn was on the way after a long cold night, and her eyes ached in her skull for some respite , but she paced, paused to glare at the map, and paced again.  
Bandits in the hills were the cause of her ire, and Leliana and Cullen had retired hours ago, but the reports of dead Inquisition soldier lay clenched in her fist, goading her away from sleep.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Pause.  
Glare.  
Pace.

“Seeker?” The soft lilt of the Antivan accent snapped her back to reality from thoughts of grieving families. Josephine was standing at the door, holding a flickering stub of a candle. Her clothes and hair were fancy as always, but mashed enough to suggest she had dozed at her desk. And yet she still managed to look fancy. Because of course she did.

“It’s nearly dawn! Come, you should get some rest.” She padded across the floor, soft hand resting on Cassandra’s shoulder. The warmth soaked through Cassandra's worn shirt instantly. Josie was a heat scource all unto herself. ’‘I worry about y-“

’'Don’t.”  
Cassandra jerked away. She didn’t particularly mean to, it was a cross between soldiers instinct and the sheer inability to let herself seem like she needed help. That old damned Pentaghast pride, rising to the surface.  
By the time she looked up at Josephine, she caught the last glimpse of hurt before it was buried under the polite ambassadors smile.

''I didn't mean-''

''People are dead. We need to fix this problem, and worry will not help us.''  
Even as Cassandra said it, she knew she sounded like a cold bastard.

The Antivan inclined her head graciously with a practised veneer that made Cassandras’ heart sink.  
But before the soldier could reach out and apologise for her abrupt nature, Josie withdrew her hand and stepped back, creating a space between them.

“How silly of me, I apologise. Have a good night, Seeker.”  
She padded off to bed, poised even for a woman snoring at her desk moments earlier, and Cassandra sighed, staring after her. Even after thoughts of dead soldiers and ambushes, her mood seemed to sour even more, and the reports were left crumpled on the war table as she took her leave.

She had lost the appetite for plans.

***

Dawn rose, and Cassandra was still lying in bed, completely awake, staring blearily at the canopy overhead.  
What did Josephine mean ’how silly of me?’ The ambassador was clever, she knew her words were weapons, she used them like Cassandra used her blade, so what did she MEAN by - 

_Get a grip of yourself, Pentaghast._  
Cassandra groaned and jammed her pillow over her ears, willing the sleep to come.

But no, Skyhold awoke around her and Josephines’ little sentence chimed irritatingly in her ears.  
_How silly of me…_ Did she think it was silly to try and be friendly? Or was it silly because she approached a warrior from the side? Should she have expected a startled reaction? What was Josie getting at?

Ugh.

Cassandra rose, dressed, ate, trained, consulted the Inquisitor, and did all of that with only half her focus. Oh, she tried, but Josephines' jibe just dragged her back again and again. It had burrowed into her mind like a parasite, and the stubborn little bastard wasn't moving an inch.

Was it silly because she didn’t expect Cassandra to have a problem with being ordered around? _No, that wasn’t the problem at all, Josie would have known…._  
She caught herself idling in a corridor, deep in thought over this and made a disgusted noise that startled the shit out of a passing Dorian. He invited her for Wicked Grace at the Tavern, but knowing Josie was going to be there made her turn it down. Her head was wrecked enough already.

***

Varric told her she had a face like thunder over breakfast. She told him to kindly store his head up his own behind. Admitting to over-thinking this one stupid thing, to Varric, would be admitting a weakness that he didn't need to know she had.  
Cassandra didnt think she could stand his smug expression this time in the morning.

Was it silly because Josie realised that Cassandra was capable and didn’t need to be worried after?  
_….No, that wasnt it either._ Why did she care? Why did Josie even care whether or not Cassandra was a bit abrupt?  
And WHY was she over-thinking this? Cassandra realised with a rush of irritation, scowling at the maps she had been absently poring over. There was a hole in the sky and the Bandit threat required her attention. Who cared if Josie was being pedantic over an imagined slight? Not her. Not one bit. 

On the way to dinner, she noticed bouquets of fresh lilies adorning the hall, and wondered if Josephine knew she hated them.

***

 _How silly of me._  
It was infuriating. A stupid mind-game she couldn’t get out of. Sitting around and sighing over petty squabbles was for powdered Orlesian ladies, not the Right Hand of the Divine. Not her. This was Josies' petty way of messing with Cassandra’s mind, and the seeker could FEEL that she was playing right into her thrice-damned trap.

_…but what did it mean?_

UGH.

Her meal the next evening was lumpy Ferelden ...sludge that passed as meat stew. Which she definitely mentioned disliking, to Josie before. She didn't bother going to the kitchens- the servants all loved Josie and she didnt want her food spat in. Cassandra left her bowl untouched. She knew when she was fighting a losing battle.

***

After the third night of little sleep, Cassandra found herself glaring at the canopy as dawn once more arrived.

And then she cursed. Loudly.

“How silly of me.” To assume that Cassandra would have been human enough to accept the affection with even the tiniest bit of warmth and grace. _How silly of me to think you’d be thoughtful enough to not take my kindness and throw it back in my face._  
Josie didn’t say that, but Cassandra could almost hear her in her head, and she groaned, pressing a hand to her face.  
Josie wasn't being needlessly petty, she was hurt. Cassandra had hurt the kindest, most lovliest person who she ever had the privilege to be cared for by.  
It was as simple as that. And she'd spent days pondering over a phrase instead of dealing with the problem. 

Maker, she was such a… what was the phrase Sera often used? **Arsebiscuit.** Yes. That one.

***

Morning broke and Skyhold busied itself once more. Refugees to house and horses to shod and Demonic sky-breaches to destroy, etc. 

Josphine was already awake and moving about when Cassandra knocked, and of course when she answered the door, she was already bathed, dressed, and disgustingly presentable for this time of the morning. Cassandra, in comparison, was quite aware that she looked like a dishevelled mess in comparison.  
Josies' face settled into a pleasant mask when she saw Cassandra, and the seeker felt a guilty twinge in her gut.

“I am sorry.” She blurted out, before Josie could say anything. She hadn’t slept, was still in her pyjamas, embarrassed and tired, but she was going to put this right. Pentaghast pride be damned.

“I hurt you, and I am truly sorry. I’d never mean to-” Maker, she was rambling. In desperation, she tried to change to a more diplomatic speel. Cassandra cleared her throat, drew herself up to her full height, and attempt to regain the bits of dignity that was trickling slowly through her fingers.

“ It was not my intent to seem ungrateful for your concern. I don’t know where I’d be without it. I hope you can forgive me. ”

There was a small pause, and then Josie's arm pulled her in close, beaming.

Josephine didn’t so much smile as she lit up a room with the way her eyes brightened and creased at the corners. Cassandra’s hugs were brief and awkward, but were tight and soft and so welcoming and warm that Cassandra wondered how she had even survived three days without this womans approval. 

It was like being lit by the sun.

“I have to write to the Marquis de Verenne urgently about a…delicate matter involving a goatherd and some dead templars. But you get some rest. Oh, we can have tea when you wake! A friend in Val Royeaux just sent me some little lemon-y cakes.”

As Josie chattered, Cassandra was ushered towards a soft bed with silken sheets and unbelievably fluffed pillows. She was shooed into lying down and sinking into the soft mattress, a blanket flapped gently over her in quick succession. As Josie squeezed her hand and bustled away to write her letters, Cassandra had to marvel at how lucky they were to have Josephine on their side.

Not only because she was a wonderful person to have care for you, but because Cassandra was pretty sure that Josie's enemies got a little worse than a disappointing meal and some verbal needling.

Cassandra yawned against the feather-down pillows, and with Josie humming quietly in the corner, she allowed herself a contented smile, and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Opposition in All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra was happily coasting along in denial until Varric opened his big mouth and made her think about Josie and Feelings all at once.
> 
> Varric was such a dick.

Cassandra hated courts. It reminded her of being too young to understand court intrigue but old enough to understand the insincerity, too tall for the peacock-esque travesty of a dress she was bundled into.  
Too bored, too frank, too out of place.

She liked the battleground. There, the steps were natural. The clashes brief and decisive. The outcome plain and simple.  
Josephine was the opposite. 

She delighted in the small things, the right gift to the right person at the right time, the little details of posture and tone and those tiny frilly cakes that **_woe_** betide you if you ate one with the wrong fingers. 

_Cake etiquette._ Cassandra had snorted to Blackwall, and was honestly disappointed when he nodded, picked up the tiny iced square in the proper way and deposited it neatly into his mouth.

''It's tradition, my lady.'' He had rumbled, sounding pleased at her bewilderment. ''It's high society after all. Can't eat with the same fingers you wipe shit with.''

Cassandra tried very hard to not think about Orlesian nobles and their lavatory habits.

''Have the rest of them.'' She'd left the plate beside him, and made her way to Varric, who at least seemed as indifferent to the ways of the courts as she felt. 

She pretended not to see Blackwall toss the little cakes in the air for Sera to catch with her mouth. 

''What's with the cakes, Seeker?'' Varric idled by the fire, pretending to write. Really, he'd just wrote the word 'IDEAS' in fancy lettering at the top of the page and nothing else. ''Is the noble Lady Pentaghast finally laying down her blade to be a meek homemaker? My my.''

Cassandra had to snort, despite herself. ''No, Varric. Josephine had some leftovers from a meeting, so I inherited them.''

''You don't like 'em?'' Varric's gaze flickered to Sera, who had three cakes in her mouth, five on the floor, and was currently high-fiving Blackwall.

''The cakes or the idiots?'' Cassandra said dryly, and Varric raised his eyebrows, placing a hand over his heart.  
''Seeker, was that a joke? I'm shocked.''

''If it's a shock you're looking for, you should seek your own writing. That last chapter was atrocious.''

''...As much as I'd like to retort...I only gave a copy to Ruffles....''

Cassandra detested fidgeting, but despite herself, she fidgeted under Varrics' suspicious squint.  
''She.. may have gave me the chapter. ''

''Wait, wait wait wait.'' Varric leaned forward, hands lacing in that gleeful pose that made Cassandra's heart sink. ''That book was for her Mother's Birthday. It was an early release, just for Ruffles'. Her mother is quite the fan.'' Varric took a moment to look pleased with himself, before turning his attention back to Cassandra.  
''And now you have it. Just like that. Did you kill her for it?''

''Don't be ridiculous. I simply mentioned I read the series, and she..''

''Ohohohoho. Secret gift romance books and fancy cakes... do I smell a story, seeker?''

''No.''

''Are you sure? You look like you'd rather set yourself on fire than talk about this, so I'm betting that I'm right.''  
Varric was grinning so wide at this point he looked like his face was about to split open.  
If he grinned for much longer, she'd help him with that.

''Now, I love Daisy to bits, but I'd probably fight her over the last slice of roast. Our Ruffles has a bit of a soft spot for you, if you ask me...''

''I didn't.'' She was curious, now that he mentioned it, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.  
''Josie is a generous woman.''

''A generous woman who happens to like other women...'' Varric wheedled, and Cassandra glared at him. ''You do not breathe a word of your delusions, Dwarf. To anyone.''

''As you wish, seeker.'' He promised, already scribbling letters as she walked away.

If there was a 'RUFFLES LOVES THE SEEKER' poster on the notice board any time soon, she was hunting him down for it.

_But what if he was right?_

Ugh.

***

''So how do you like the book?'' Josie's eyes was on her little writing-board, but Cassandra knew her long enough to know that she had the ambassadors undivided attention.

''It's..'' The Seeker hesitated. It was pure drivel, but unlike what she had told Varric, it was pure drivel that she adored. 

''It's wonderful.'' She decided, leaning on the balcony and gazing down at the courtyard below, lulled by the scratch of Josie's quill, the smell of fresh parchment mixed with the brisk mountain air.

''The Knight-Captain rushing to save her love from the Hangman's noose... the accused's speech... I loved every second of that awful dwarves' writing.''  
She was rewarded for her honesty by a soft, delighted laugh. 

And she felt her own lips tug up in response. 

''Thank you.'' She said, and meant it with all her heart.

''You're welcome.'' Josephine replied, and Cassandra liked to pretend she meant the same.

 

****

''One, two, one, two, and then you turn- no no no, with the left foot first-''

Cassandra trudged up the steps of the main hall, aching and sweating from a few hours training recruits with Cullen. Her shoulders were sore, and she pulled off her gloves and stretched, slipping her hands under her jerkin to press the knots out of her muscles with a pleased grunt.

It took her a few moments to realise that there were other people in the hall. But when she did notice, she couldn't stop staring.

''And then you switch, hands on the waist- no Sera- the waist.'' Josephine was saying in exasperation as Sera and the Bull dissolved into laughter. Their friends were all standing around Josephine, all paired up and in their best dress. They looked hilarious. 

Josie seemed to be attempting to teach them the intricacies of some old formal dance, and Cassandra flopped down in Varric's normal chair and smirked at the Dwarves discomfort, waiting for the inevitable hilarity.

Sera and Bull seemed to insist on partnering up out of sheer inconvenience. Dorian and Vivienne had formed a united front as the two best dancers in the room. Cole was dancing by himself and seemed more content to make up his own steps. 

Blackwall and Varric were gallantly making the best out of being stuck together.

Dorian, Vivienne and Blackwall actually seemed pretty competent. Solas seemed like he was more fascinated with watching than interested in taking part, and the rest of the group were the reason Josie looked close to tearing her hair out. 

Cassandra got the feeling that Bull could out-dance them all if he tried, but he was currently hoisting a giggling Sera up to balance on his shoulders.

She heard her own dry chuckle before she could stop herself, and shrank back in her seat as Josie turned towards the noise.

Oh no. Oh no. Maker, be kind.  
The maker didn't listen.

''Cassandra! There you are!'' Josie was looking at her like how a dying man looked at a healer, so full of relief as she reached out a hand. ''You must help me, an Antivan merchant prince is coming to visit and no-one can properly dance, and knowing his love of parties... oh we're so unprepared, come..''

''Ah, no, I just finished training, I couldn't possibly!'' Cassandra protested.  
''I cannot dance, two left feet.'' She was still makes excuses as Josie took her hand and pulled her up unto the middle of the floor. 

And all at once it was like she was back in Nevarra, being stuffed into an uncomfortable, hideous frock and being lead out in front of crowds and paraded around like a prize doll.

The circle of eyes on her heralded a rush of discomfort, the old feeling of being too inept, too clumsy to exist here.  
Ugh.

''This is a bad idea-'' Cassandra was still desperately trying to talk her way out of this awful scenario, when Josie took her hand, and tugged her firmly in close.  
She found themselves suddenly nose-to-nose, and Josie's soft brown eyes were looking into hers..  
And the world quieted a little.

She could do this, if she kept focus on Josie's face and not on the people watching... maybe... just maybe she wouldn't end centuries of Pentaghast nobility in a travesty of clumsy flailing.

Cassandra's fingers hesitantly closed around Josie's' and she followed the ambassadors lead, one step at a time, til her memory took over and they were moving, twirling around the great hall in effortless strides, the world behind Josie blurring into blobs of colour.

But Josie's smiling face stayed in focus, her dark hair shaking loose and curling over her face.  
They stumbled a few times, but Josie's hands squeezed hers tight.

The ambassador smelled of something sweet and spiced, and Cassandra knew she probably smelled of sweat, but the other woman was smiling in return. With some surprise, she realised it was the first time she had ever had fun dancing in a ballroom.

They finished the dance with a flourish, a sudden heel-toe tap and a bow, and Bull and Sera's dance team exploded into bawdy applause, startling Cassandra back to reality.

''Good!'' Josie was saying, stepping away from Cassandra and leaving her dazed. ''That was perfect! Now, I need you all to do just that!''

''That'll be tough.'' Varric was saying, as Cassandra escaped the hall, cheeks burning. 

''Not sure if I'll be able to do doe-eyes like the Seeker, but I'll try.''

***

Cassandra liked the Hinterlands.  
It was full of bears at the most inopportune moments, yes, but the people were simple and generous, and she could appreciate the rugged beauty of the countryside, so different than parched landscapes of Nevarra.

Both Cole and the Bull seemed to agree as they set up camp, with the latter teaching the former how to catch fireflies in a jar and how to safely set them free.

The Inquisitor was off chatting to locals, and a comfortable silence seemed to wash over the tents as the sun sank quietly over the horizon.  
Cassandra wandered over to the edge of the stream, eyes catching the soft white petals of what she thought it was an Arbor blossom. It sat right of the precipice of the bank, bobbing softly over the burbling water, and she edged closer and reached out, wondering if she should pick it. It was beautiful, soft and-

''-Delicate. Swaying in the breeze like a dance. A flower to suit a lady. Maybe she'd like it, mouth pulling into that wonderful smile, oh, I'd watch her smile for days, lighting up everything in her path. I wonder what it would be like to kiss her-'' 

''Cole!'' Cassandra deftly stamped on the plant, causing the stem to snap and flop sadly into the stream. By the time Bull looked around, Cassandra was nowhere near any sort of suspicious flora. ''What have we told you about reading the guards minds?!''

Cole looked at her, wide-eyed, and she felt a stab of guilt.  
''You can't talk about people in that way.'' She said in a gentler tone, and gave him an awkward pat before retiring to her tent. ''Stop embarrassing the men.''

''Your face is bright red.'' Bull muttered out of the corner of his mouth as she passed.

''Shut up.'' 

***

''Are you busy?''  
Cassandra let herself into Josie's office, to find her face to face with Leliana, who winked and side-stepped her neatly.

''Me? Oh, no, the Arl of Redcliffe just sent a very long and earnest letter concerning Inquisition forces, but I think I can read that tomorrow.'' Josie greeted cheerily, clearing the letters and clutter from her desk.  
Josie was awful for clutter, for such an organised person.

''I've spent the day dealing with diplomats and trifles. I think I need... ah, of course.'' She stood, ruffles rustling as she turned to reach for an old bottle of some sort of Amber liquid. When she popped the cork, Cassandra smelled almonds. 

''A friend in Antiva sent me this for my last birthday. I've been saving it.'' She explained, pouring two glasses and pressing one into Cassandra's hands.  
''They make it themselves. Oh, it's wonderful.''

Cassandra took the glass and cradled it in her hands, leaning back against the wall til Josie sank down unto her ridiculously fluffed-up fireside couch and patted the seat beside her.  
''Leliana was just telling me the news from Val Royeaux.''

''Gossip, you mean.'' Cassandra said dryly, leaning an arm on the backrest of the stuffed cushions.  
''The most wonderful gossip.'' Josephine agreed lightly. ''Thankfully.. for once, my sister is not the topic .''

''Your sister?'' Cassandra knew Josie had family, sure, but she never asked for details. It seemed... awkward, somehow, to pry. Josephine however, seemed grateful of the opportunity to talk about her family. ''Yes, Yvette. She's dreadfully prone to scandal, though, I suppose most Orlesian artists are.'' She chattered on, accent curling delightfully around her _'r's._  
Cassandra tried hard not to notice the pleasant lilting sound, and failed miserably.

''Scandal seems to be a hobby for the Orlesian court.'' She remarked, with no small amount of derision in her tone, and Josephine glanced over at her, toeing off those fancy shoes of hers and tucking her feet up on the couch. 

''You're not fond of Orlais?''

They both knew the answer to that, but she appreciated the effort.  
''It's nobles I don't like. I truly don't know how you do it, dealing with their petty whining daily. It's nothing short of admirable.''

''I love the intrigue.'' Josie confessed. ''Like a particularly precarious game of chess. There's a wonderful thrill to it!'' There was a wistful twist to her voice, and Cassandra felt a twinge of sadness, nostalgia for a time she had not ever experienced.  
''You miss Val Royeaux.''

''Yes, but my place is here for now, I think. Val Royeaux can wait. Skyhold has it's charms.''  
She smiled at Cassandra, but the Seeker was too busy noting that their hands were lying inches apart on the couch, to return the smile.

One small move, and she could- Josie was expressive anyways, constant little shows of affection, would she think it odd if their hands were to touch? Would it ruin the moment?

_Maker have mercy, what happened to the Pentaghast way of getting to the point? This is tragic._

''I, ah, when the Antivan prince arrives. I'd advise not leaving the Inner Circle partnered up with the same people. It'll be a disaster.'' She said lamely instead, pointedly ignoring her own jumbled thoughts, and was relieved when Josephine nodded.

''It should be best if we paired strong dancers with weaker ones, no? Perhaps Bull and Madame De Fer, I think. A nice contrast. Leliana and Solas? That's trickier. Hmm. Cullen and Dorian. Varric....''

''A cage.'' Cassandra said instantly, and Josephine snorted before she caught herself. 

''Maybe Varric and Sera. Similar heights. And myself...'' Josephine paused for a deliberate moment. ''Why, I'm not sure.''

 _Me._ Cassandra thought before her mind caught up with the rest of her. _Why not? We dance well, and she.._ The thought faded from Cassandra's head as another thought barrelled its way in. 

Maker, if she didn't know any better, Josie was actually leaving the space open for Cassandra to ask her. 

''There's plenty of suitors who'd kill for the chance. You should hold a tourney.'' She offered with a snort, playing for time.

Josie tittered. ''Oh, I think someone from the Inner Circle would be best. The Inquisitor flanked by their closest allies, all dancing in unison... it'll be perfect. A bonus, of course, if my partner can dance.''

Her eyes flickered to Cassandra for a moment, and the Seeker suddenly fought the urge to swallow. Oh, she'd caught that look.  
Cassandra cleared her throat, looking at the other woman's expectant face. 

_Alright, Cassandra. Just ask her. Open your mouth and ask her._

_Ask her._

_Cassandra._

Cassandra stood very still, and didn't say a thing, her heart sinking in her chest along with her courage.

Oh, what she doing? Running around like a dog chasing its tail, over a the hint of a romance. 

She loved Romance, but she didn't know HOW to romance. She was awkward and blunt and did Josie even like her? Varric was probably just lying, the horrible dwarf. What if this was all in her head? Reading too much into Josie's kindness.

Blackwall on the other hand... was rough on the outside and hairier than a bear, but he was surprisingly cultured, and everyone knew of his feelings for Josie. He could give her all the frills and dances that she'd want.

He even knew how to eat those cakes properly.

Cassandra sighed inwardly.  
''Blackwall.'' She suggested heavily, not so much side-stepping the topic as vaulting over it. ''He's a good dancer.''

There was a beat of silence, and Josie nodded. ''Yes, I... suppose.''

They finished their drinks, and Cassandra spent the rest of the conversation wondering if she could knock herself out with her own glass.

 

***

 

Varric was enjoying a quiet pint when Cassandra's shoe hit him in the temple.

''Ow! Andrastes asshole, Seeker, what have I done now!?'' He griped, rubbing the sore area and glaring at her. 

''You! You ruined everything!'' She gestured in empty frustration, fingers balling into fists and falling limp again. ''You had to keep talking and you got into my head and now it's .. it's awful! You're awful!''

 

Varric stared from her, slowly, to his drink. ''I'm gonna need another pint for this, aren't I.''

She sighed, and flopped down beside him, making the bench creak. ''Make that two pints.''

 

***

''Oh shit.''

''I know.''

''Ohhh SHIT.''

''I KNOW, Varric.''

''So she WAS trying to Romance you!''

''I don't know... maybe?''

''And you liked her!''

''I don't know! You opened your stupid mouth and then I couldn't think of anything else.'' She said miserably.

''And you acted on your new-found feelings by...... pushing her towards the arms of another. Nice. ''

''Must you rub this in?''

''Yes. Absolutely.''

''Varric, I swear, if I see this in one of your stories..''

''Oh, no fear Seeker. This is far too sad for one of my stories. ''

''I'm a ruin.'' Cassandra groaned into her cup.

''Yeah.'' He patted her shoulder with all the hesitance of a man petting a feral wolf. ''But the important thing is that you're feeling  
awful about this.''

''I hate you.''

''Yeah, yeah. So are you going to fix this or just drink til your eyes bleed?''

''Second one.''

''Ah.''


	3. Songs o'er Cobblestones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone works in tandem to make Cassandra's life as hard as possible.
> 
> Including bountiful pep-talks,ladies in love, and a hated red dress.

After Cassandra had worn through the third training dummy in a matter of weeks, the administration stepped in. 

''These things have to be made specially, and imported, you know. From Denerim.'' Cullen commented from a careful distance, watching her dump the dummy into the large wood-pile containing the bodies of her previous dummy-victims.

She was impressed to see that he was firmly keeping the woodpile between them at all times.

''Then they'll import more.'' She went back to breaking up the wood, and heard a small sigh of defeat.

''Yes, yes I suppose.'' The ex-templar murmured. ''But.. um..''  
Cassandra ignored him. She wasn't explaining this one.  
''Did Josephine manage to pair you with Dorian?''

She asked instead, stamping on a flimsy plank that half- stuck out of the sad pile of wood, or, as Varric called it: Physical Proof That Neverran Seekers are Awful With People. Even Wooden Ones.

''No, Dorian was quite insistant on having a partner who wouldn't step on his feet.'' He tried to inject some humour into the sentence,but just sounded nervous.  
It was lucky he was pretty, because the amount he sweated around fancy crowds was astounding in and of itself.

But Cassandra was desperate.

''Then I'll go with you.'' She decided.  
''Neither of us wants to be there. We might make it a little more bearable for each other.''

Cullen graciously accepted.

Thank the maker, if she'd been forced to go with Cole she would have been in deep shit. The last thing she need was for that dem- _boy_ , to read her thoughts. 

 

**

 

Cassandra hadn't been avoiding Josephine.

She just found reasons to be places where Josephine wasn't. Consistantly. For a few weeks.

She got the feeling the Ambassador was disappointed with her. 

Cassandra didn't exactly blame her for that one.

She missed Josephine. Missed the excitement, the uncertainty of the next step. Missed spending time with her and hearing her laugh and her awful jokes and WHY did she only notice all this now?

She'd made a mistake.

And worse, Varric knew she;d made the mistake. And reminded her of it. Often.

***

''You know Darling, your cheekbones are the stuff of envy.''  
Vivienne had her chin in a grip that was as firm as it was gentle, her head tilted slightly as she studied the Seekers face.

Cassandra got the uncomfortable feeling that she was being dissected.  
''Thank you.'' She replied stiffly, and Vivienne made a quiet, amused noise. 

''Stop being so stiff my dear, I'm hardly going to bite.''

It was supposed to be reassuring, but Cassandra had seen Vivienne cook an enemy alive in his own armor. So it wasn't.

''The red dress, I think. We can paint your lips, do something elegant with your hair.''

''Not.. that I'm ungrateful.. but don't you have servants to do this? It seems.. beneath you.''

Vivienne laughed. ''Oh, this isn't some girlish pass-time my dear, you didn't think I'd let you attend the Prince's soiree in your armour? Perish the thought.''

The Seeker snorted. ''So this is pity.''

''Call it what you will, darling. I call it a necessary favour.''

 

***

 

The dress was ...slinky.

A deep red with an elegant high neckline and about 5 miles too much material. It pooled on the floor around her and swished softly at the slightest hint of movement.

Terrible for combat.

Vivienne seemed to have detected her dislike of ruffles and frills, so the offending garment was blessedly plain, with slitted shoulders and sleeves that were billowing and loose, tightening back up at her wrists for a stiff embroidered hem.

A sash of the same colours was to be tied around her waist, to state her rank in the Inquisition and also to emphasise her hips.

Because of course as a high-ranking member of the Inquisition, her _hips_ were important.

Cassandra scowled at the mirror. She looked like Lady Cassandra Allegra Portia Filomena Pentaghast, distant heir to the Nevarran Throne. Probably more than she ever had before.

It wasn't her. Anthony would have thought it was hilarious, she realised, with a sudden ache in her heart.

The dress was pushed off her shoulders and stuffed unceremoniously back into the drawer. 

No, not now. It wasn't helping anything.

 

***

 

''I hear Vivienne is trying to make you less.....'' Dorian waved a hand at Cassandra's general appearance, and she scowled at him. 

''I had to decline her offer, you'll be sad to hear.''

''Mm. Pity. You'd think you'd at least dress up for your lady-friend once in a while. Nevarran style at best is dismal, but that leather jerkin is probably more dried sweat than leather at this point. Do give my greetings to her, by the way.''

''The jerkin?''

'' _No._ The Ambassador.''

There was an awkward pause. ''Can you not... do that yourself?'' Cassandra asked eventually, wondering if there was some dreadful feud between Tevinter and Antiva that had sprung up in the last couple of minutes.

''I'm reading.'' Dorian said, scandalised, as if that was enough of a reason to forgo socialising entirely.  
''Though doubtless her day could be brightened by this velvety voice of mine. I assume, however, that you'll see her before I do, hmm?''

''That.. is doubtful.''

Cassandra fixed her gaze on a wooden post ahead of her and ignored Dorian peering over his book at her like a startled ferret.

''You're no longer together. Ah.''

''We were never together!'' Cassandra snapped, a little louder than she meant to. Makers breath, what was it about this castle that made rumours travel so fast?  
If this was Varric, she was going to find him and use him as her next training dummy.

Dorian raised his eyebrows at her, a sceptical look that nobody did better. ''I realise the Chantry is against that sort of thing, but lets be honest, I'm in no position to judge you.''

''No, no, we were never together.'' She groaned. ''Nothing ever happened. ''

Dorian was looking at her like she suddenly started breathing fire, his jaw moving wordlessly under closed lips.  
''I see.'' He said eventually. ''You must forgive me, of course.''

''Did Varric tell you this? I'll kill him''

''Varric? No, no. I mean, it's hard to miss the way she looks at you. But I always thought you and the Ambassador were...'' He made a vague hand-gesture that she ignored.

''Always? Even at Haven?'' Damn her curiosity. She hated giving him the satisfaction of an audience.

''Mm.''

''But that was before..'' Before she had started thinking about how she felt. ''...Skyhold.'' Cassandra decided instead.

''Most astute. I really must get back to my book.''

''Dorian-''

''Suffice to say I've been to the Future- albiet, one that never happened- and my knowledge may have been a little faulty. You've read the reports of Redcliffe and Alexius I'm sure?''

She stared deadpan at him, and he cringed. ''Alright, alright. I've said enough. No messing up the present, thank you very much.''

''I know the reports back to front, and nothing in them mentioned myself or Lady Montilyet. What did you leave out ?? What do you know?!''

''I know that there's very little point telling you things that never happened, now off with you! These books won't rearrange themselves.''

And that was that. He wouldn't say another word, through threats nor bribery.

 

***

 

So Josephine did like her. Had liked her. 

Maybe?

Dorian was nearly as infuriating as Varric when he wanted to be.

It didn't matter. Something happened in the future-that-never-was that made Dorian sure they were together. 

Cassandra sucked in a breath of cold air and let the chill sting her lungs til her head was clear again. She gripped the stone balustrade and closed her eyes and just breathed, letting the rest of the world fall away, like it had when she had been made tranquil.

The release of burdens. The light guiding her home.

And there, burning like a tiny spark amidst the rest of the inner screaming her mind was engaging in, she found her answer.

It involved braving the dress.

 

***

 

The Prince Ignacio of the Antivan Merchants Guild was as lavish as you'd expect, with gold dripping off every spare inch that wasn't covered in bright silks or impressive mustaches.  
He flourished and exclaimed his way around the court, plying the guests with sweet exotic wines or rare delicacies. Pressed flowers and small jewellery boxes, small shirt-pins and boxes of spice were some of the tokens he handed out casually , showering everyone within reach with compliments.

So naturally, the Inquisition had to try and out-do him. The best drapes, the best bards, the best food, the best wine, the best pointless little gifts...

She escaped that particular nug-shit parade by going to get ready.

She tried doing something with her hair, but after an hour of glaring at the mirror, she just braided it as normal. The dress was enough.

And the dress was dragged out of the wardrobe again, the red nightmare that made her look like a proper lady. At least the hems on the pointed sleeves looked a little like bracers, and for that she was thankful.  
A little bit of home. 

It was long pretty long, too, so she just jammed her old boots on. It's not like anyone would know about this tiny bit of rebellion to make up for the fact that someone had finally gotten her in a dress.

_Alright Pentaghast. You've faced worse. Don't mess it up._

She squared off at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, cleared her throat and nodded.

Like Vivienne had said once. Armour can be a dress, in the right company.

 

**

 

The party was in full swing by the time she got there, having blessedly missed the bit where they were all trotted out like prize dogs.

Blackwall had actually dressed in formal Warden gear, and trimmed his beard.  
He waved as she entered, and she didn't have the heart to ignore him, date of Josephine or not. He was a good man, and this sort of WAS her fault.

Varric was still showing as much cleavage as ever, Bull had convinced Cole to try and lick his own elbow, and Sera was outragously flirting with one of the Antivan servants.  
The Prince, however, seemed to find them all delightful, and was currently engaging Dorian in a drinking contest.

Cassandra managed to side-step the chaos that was their friends, and, horribly self-concious, set about looking for Josephine.

The Ambassador was bustling around, checking there was enough drinks, food and conversation to keep the party going, and Cassandra dawdled to a stop, watching her as a weird twist occurred in her chest.  
Josephine's hair was loose and flowing, her usual blue-and-gold attire replaced with a flurry of purple and silver silks.  
Frills and ruffles galore, the thing would have put Empress Celene herself to shame.

 _The maker can make perfect things._ Cassandra thought, before she could slap the thought out of her own head.

Andraste keep them all, this was sappy, even for her.

Thankfully, Josie interrupted her mangled train of thought when she looked up, and when she saw Cassandra, she excused herself and strolled across the room. 

While she was all smiles and pleasantries to anyone who stopped her, there was a steely glint in her eyes that made Cassandra uncomfortably suspect she was in trouble. 

She was. Josie reached her and the friendly veneer was completely contradicted by the sheer vitriol that poured from the other woman.

''You. Where WERE you? We were short a partner in meeting the prince and he NOTICED. Asked for you by name! It was a disgrace!'' 

Cassandra was taken aback, opening her mouth to argue, then closing it again. This was not how it was supposed to go. ''..What?''

''The dances, Cullen had to go alone! The eyes of the world are on us, and you made us seem divided!'' Josephine was quietly seething, fire in her eyes as she stared the baffled soldier down.  
'' We have so many enemies and I just wanted this evening to go perfectly and you...!'' She trailed off and made a frustrated hand-motion.

Cassandra blinked. ''I am not fond of pandering to pointless nobles, even at the best of times. If I am late, I am late.''

''This is the game.'' Josie's voice hardened. ''Everything is remembered.''

Cassandra wondered if they'd have to go through the whole lilies-and-stew thing again or if they'd ever balance out to a place where she didn't piss Josephine off every 30 seconds.

Andraste help her, this was going awfully.

 

''I was busy getting ready.'' She ground out, feeling the situation slip out of her control and saunter away.  
''I have duties other than dancing, you know.''

''Duties? You duty is to the Inquisition! We need to be seen as a united front! Not... skulking in the shadows!''

Cassandra took a slow breath, and focused. A way to end this conversation. Shock her. Retreat and Regroup.

''I didn't squeeze myself into this dress to get scolded like a child. If you want a dance, I'll be _skulking in the shadows._ ''

She turned on her heel and made for the tables of food, feeling like a scalded cat.

Bark worse that her bite? If anyone said that about Josephine Montilyet, they were disgustingly wrong.

 

***

The first few hours, she spent with the other soldiers, but eventually the outside called to her, offering a solace away from the noise. 

Out here, with the mountains above them, she felt at peace. 

Close to the maker. _A light to guide her home,_ as Cole once said.

 

***

 

''Cassandra?'' 

Josephine was standing behind her.  
All her youthful exuberance could easily made Josephine appear years younger than she was, but the stress of the night had her looking quiet and tired. 

She still looked lovely, Cass thought.  
Lovely in the summer air on a balcony with her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders unto that deep purple dress. 

''I am sorry.'' Josephine continued, taking a step forward. ''I was most unkind, talking to you so, I hope you can-''

Cassandra shook her head. ''Don't. Perhaps I should have been earlier. Undermining the inquisition was not -''

''No, please, let me.'' Josephine shook her head, grasping Cassandra's hands. ''I was.. stressed, and I took it out on you. Please forgive me.''

She was staring right at Cassandra, meeting her gaze, shoulders proud and earnest.  
Josephine was so many different things, but the one thing she was constantly, was a woman who knew exactly who she was. 

And when she was remorseful, she did what she could to make it right. Cassandra respected that.

Respected _her._

''Of course I do.'' She squeezed Josephines' hands, and when Josie didn't let go, neither did she.

 

***

 

''I have something of a confession, if you will'' Josie said later, as they leaned on the balcony, gazing down at the few revellers out in the courtyard.

Cassandra took the wine bottle offered her and took a swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and passing it back. ''I will.'' She said lightly.

Josephine was quiet for a moment, and Cassandra took the moment to study her side profile. A strong jaw. Soft, full lips. A long nose.  
In this light she looked older, softer. Her old optimism tempered by responsibility and wine.

_Maker._

''When I asked you who I should take to this ball, I had hoped you'd offer yourself as an option.''  
The Antivan said eventually, taking the bottle in her hands.  
'' When you didn't, I.. suppose I was disappointed.''

Cassandra opened her mouth to reply, and had to shut it again. She'd only mess this up.

''And then you offered me a dance today and I thought.. maybe you wanted the same, no?''

Cassandra took a deep breath to clear her head, and let out a quiet laugh instead.  
''Maker save us. Yes, I was stupid. I thought perhaps Blackwall would be better at.. at this, the party, the finery. For someone who praises going after what you want, I am awful at it.''

Josephine made a soft sound of amusement, and turned those lovely brown eyes towards her.  
''What you want?''

Cassandra furrowed her brow and reminded herself to never admit this happened to Varric.  
''I know it's sudden. I liked being close to you, I knew that for certain. But then Varric opened his stupid mouth and I couldn't stop thinking of the possibilities . Maybe it is how I always felt, but I-''

''Can I kiss you?'' Josephine interrupted, turning towards the other woman, the soft clink of the bottle being set down was followed by Josephine's hands on hers, warm palms holding her tight.

Cassandra bit her tongue before she could suggest Blackwall instead or some other nonsense, and nodded.

Josephine kissed her.

A soft, brief press of lips, and Josephine was gone, bustling back into the party to investigate a loud crash and a whoop that echoed from within the hall. 

Cassandra was left standing frozen on the balcony, heart making an admirable attempt to burst out of her ribcage.

She slumped against the low wall, and took a swig out of the bottle.  
''I hope you weren't watching that.'' She said idly towards the sky.

 

***

 

''You really should have taken my advice darling.'' Vivienne said, looking her up and down. She had worked her way effortlessly around the entire court, and was now standing by Cassandra, for lack of more interesting people to talk to, probably.

''The red would have looked wonderful on your lips. Brought out those lovely Nevarran skintones.''

''Had I applied it myself, I'd look like I just ate raw meat.'' Cassandra replied, and was rewarded with an almost favourable look from the Enchantress. Vivienne did love people who could hold their own.

''Very good, darling. Quick thing, that's the third glass of wine you've had in a short time. Is everything quite alright?''  
''Oh, fine.'' Cassandra said firmly, willing her cheeks not to go pink as she drained her glass. ''Better than fine.''

''HEY, SEEKER! Bring Poshy over here, we need your opinions!'' Sera waved them over, a half-eaten chicken leg in her hand. ''Who'd you rather fight, a hundred nug-sized dragons or ten dragon-sized nugs!?'' 

Vivienne's expression suggested she'd just stepped in shit. Cassandra chuckled and dragged herself over to the table. 

''By the way.'' Bull said as she sat down. ''If you don't say the dragons, you're wrong.''

 

***

 

Of course, it was Skyhold, so it didn't take too long for things to descend into chaos.  
Josephine was in her element even into the early hours of the morning: People were dozing under tables and singing bawdy drinking songs or slipping away for some illicit fun away from the main hall, but she still commanded the party with a skilled eagle-eye and a conversation strategy that was quite impressive. 

Naive Josephine Montilyet was a good disguise, but her true skills shone now, the part of her that could play a courtroom like a puppet-master.

Cassandra sat with the others and watched Josie work. Varric had stopped attempting to call her attention back to the conversation, and the jokes about her lovesick face had just stopped.

''Ugh, Seeker, your face is gone all soft and smiley. It's giving me chills, are you dying?''

Well, almost.

But Josie shot her smiles all evening, so Cassandra's brain was too melted to even retort to Varric's needling.

''Oi, Frowney. You keep lookin at Miss Fancy-pants like that and I'm gonna have to talk to you about girls.'' Sera hooted, and Cassandra decided to leave before the gestures got too obscene.

 

And then, because of course it did, everything went to hell.

 

She was getting up off the bench when she saw him.

An elven servant was moving through the crowd, barrelling quickly in a straight line through drunks and dancers alike.  
Stiff posture, clenched fists.

Odd.

She paused for a moment before it hit her, exactly what he reminded her of.  
_A young soldier in battle, scared witless but pushing forward, heart beating too loud in their head for thoughts, nails digging into palms to root them admit the panic and chaos._

Shit, she knew that look.  
The world ground to a shuddering halt and she was running before she knew it, heavy boots catching the hem of the dress and tearing. 

She felt too small, naked without her armour, but she was strong enough to shove through people to get to the elf, who had started running now, and more people had noticed, pulling out of his way. He'd started to panic and moved too soon, drew too much attention to himself.  
Trained Assassin? He would have made a lousy squire. But even squires could handle blades. She could see his resolve harden in the set of his shoulders as he tore for Ignacio, fingers tight around a sharp flat blade.

Cassandra cursed, and threw herself after him.

''STOP!''

Steps from the prince, she caught up to him, lunging forward and grabbing his thin shoulder, bodily hauling him back from his final lunge. He was only a boy, barely grown, she realised with a start. How did-

He spun with a wild howl at her pull, spinning and thrusting his wrist forward. 

A well-placed headbutt had him crumpling. She swore she heard someone whoop for that one.

Ignacio was standing, shouting for guards. People were crowding closer in interest. Everything was still too slow to be reality.

The dazed elf was set upon and detained at the orders of the Inquisitor, but Cassandra barely noticed.

''Search the grounds, check all the rosters and bring in any suspicious changes.'' She heard herself command, words too slow and clumsy on her tongue.  
Did they even make sense? She had no idea.

Nobody replied, or maybe that was just her ears rushing with her own heartbeat. She turned to go, only to find the majority of people in the hall were staring at her; Bull was pushing himself to his feet, Cullen making his way into the hall, all eyes fixed on her like she was in a circus.

Ugh. 

''Cassandra!'' Someone was shouting. Josephine? Was it Josephine?

Staring. Staring.

She looked down.

Her dress had torn at an angle, showing off her legs from the mid-thigh down, and exposing those battered muddy boots to a court of nobles. 

''Ah. Well thats embarrassing.'' She said flatly, staring sluggishly at her own body.

 

It could have been worse-

 

Oh, there was a knife in her.

 

The elves blade was buried snugly in her abdomen. An ugly thing, making her dress stick to her belly, slick and wet with a red that matched the fabric.  
There was a moment of blissful confusion, before the pain hit her like a brick wall, spearing and sharp and **_wrong._**

''...Ah.''  
Grunting through gritted teeth, she tentatively pressed her fingers to the blood-sodden patch and the room went black.

''Shit.'' She said, and collapsed.


	4. Balance Sundered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being stabbed isn't pleasant, but it's not the worst week Cassandra ever had.
> 
> In fact, stabbing aside, it was almost a pretty good week.
> 
> Almost.

_''Fluttering in the dark, faith holding firm, face tilted towards the light like a flower to the sun. It changes, wrenched away from peace and into dark. Sharp and spearing. Pain, pain is everywhere, drowning in blackness, I wonder, is this how Anthony-''_

''Someone shut Creepy up!'' Sera's voice was high, stressed. Footsteps tramping all around. A soft lap cradling her head, strong warm hands holding her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks.  


There was something jostling her. Big fingers gently peeling the dress back from the wound as a concerned single eye gazed downwards.  
''Buy me a drink first next time.'' Bull joked, and then was gone, fading back out into blackness.

''Get her up, gently- gently!''  
She tried to move but the room spun and arms wrapped under each shoulder, bearing her aloft on a mattress of helping hands, out of the hall. 

''More guards around the Prince-''  
''-careful on the steps, do you WANT to dump her into the mud?!''

''Keep breathing Seeker, you're doing fine.''

In the blur of noise and half-focussed movement, Varric's voice rung clear, a blocky hand squeezing her shoulder gently amidst the chaos. Something for her to anchor to.  


_She should be walking. She wasn't this weak._

  
A chuckle. Did she say that aloud?  
''We're here, Seeker. A knife to the gut would take the best of us down.''  


_Maker forgive me._  


A table rattled, or was it a door? Old heavy wood scraping across a rough surface. The cold went away in a rush, and soft candlelight bloomed warm instead, dark and hushed as she was set down with a piece of wood shoved between her teeth.  
Strong hands alighted, apologetic but firm on her shoulders, arms and legs.

 _She was young again, green from the Seekers, with unscarred cheeks and a face less prone to scowling. She was kneeling in a muddied field in the Marches, reeds stinging her arms in the wind as she held down the shoulders of a shivering recruit as they teased the barbed arrow-tip from his body. He'd thrown his head back and howled, a ragged desperate sound as the blood oozed from his wound, sobbing for his mother. She had prayed for him, and muttered a hundred apologies.  
_ So she tensed for what came next.

Words, so many words. Mutterings and whispers, they blurred together into words she knew but couldn't recognise. Maybe it was the shock. Or the wine. Maybe she was dying.  


  


_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._  
_In their blood the Maker's will is written.._  


Benedictions for the dying.  


A hand grasped the blade, and pulled. _schhllockk_ There was a horrible wet sound as the metal was pulled from her flesh. The pain burst sharp and agonising, leaving her grinding her teeth against the wood and then for a blessed few moments, everything faded again.   
Salves and bandages, needles and thread blurred together in a flurry of nausea and hurt. 

Someone was crying out in pain. It might have been her.  


When the wood was gently pried from between her teeth, hands were wiping her mouth, drying her eyes, smoothing her damp hair back from her forehead. Someone was pulling a blanket over her.  
Cassandra slept.

  
***  


_Too long I have travelled, soon I'll see her smiling,_  
_The girl in Red Crossing I'm longing to see._  


The drapes stirred in the breeze as she opened her eyes, idly watching the flapping material blur into focus. There was a hand in each of hers, and a quiet voice from her right sang softly.

  


_O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the chantry to marry me._  


Leliana. She'd know the bards voice anywhere. After a beat, another voice joined in, from her left this time.  


_I've dreamed of the kiss I stole 'neath the arbor._  
_I've dreamed of the promise 'neath the old ash tree._  
Josephine. 

_O, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,_  
_Waiting by the chantry to marry me._  


Cassandra didn't move, she felt too drained and too sore to do much of anything, but she was content to drift back to sleep in the bright breezy room with her friends singing her back to health.  


***  


What could have been hours or days or years passed, and she finally pried her eyes open again.  
Sera, Cullen and Bull where there, playing chess by the foot of the bed. Well, Bull and Cullen were playing chess.  
Sera was doodling pictures of an impressively muscled Cassandra punting the would-be assassin through a wall. Her dress was a lot shorter in the drawings.  


''Alright Frowny!'' Sera greeted cheerfully punching her in the shoulder and making an apologetic face when Cassandra winced. ''All back from the dead, yeah? Scared the piss out of us, didn't you?''  
Cassandra groaned and tried to sit up, but Bull shook his head at her from the bottom of the bed. ''Wouldn't try that if I were you, Seeker. How you feeling?''  


''Like death.'' She croaked truthfully, feeling weak and sick, her brain muddied from something. A thick herbal taste lingered in her mouth, it felt like someone had crammed the Western Approach into her throat.

''The prince-?''

''Pissy, but fine.'' Sera made a face. ''Holed up in his room with his fancy sword-people, isn't he? ''  


''His loss.'' Bull captured Cullens' last Knight and tossed the ivory piece into the air, catching it in one hand. ''You ever want to show off that amount of leg in court again, Seeker, make sure I'm closer to the front.''  
Cassandra snorted, and motioned for Sera to punch Bull for her.   
Sera did so, jabbing the Qunari's meaty shoulder with glee. 

It had the effect of a pebble bouncing off a mountain.  


''You're awake!'' Josephine was in the doorway, Leliana and the Inquisitor hovering close behind her. Cassandra felt her spirits lift as Josephine bustled into the room, sliding into the free seat by the bed and pressing the wonderfully cold back of a hand to her forehead.  
''Tell me, how do you feel?''  


''Exactly like someone stabbed me. '' Cassandra said dryly, a little uncomfortable with all the attention received from the roomful of people, seeing her weak. ''I will live.''  


''Oh, we were so worried- ''  
''-nah, we all knew you'd make it. Lady Montilyet nearly fretted herself sick though.'' Bull shrugged his large shoulders, and Josephine shot him an indignant look.  
''Out, all of you! Out, out!''  


Cassandra nearly had to laugh at the sight of Josie shooing a crowd of people, including a horned giant, from the room like a dog herding sheep.  


***  


''I'm glad you're okay.'' Josie said, when everyone else had left.  
She had stayed, offering medicines, broth, fluffed pillows, anything to make Cassandra more comfortable. The seeker bit back the urge to refuse the help, battled her pride back down so she could lie in the soft lamplight, wounded and weak, but cared for.   
It was..lovely. Apart from the stab wound. 

''It's not how I thought the evening would go.'' Cassandra admitted, and Josie shook her head in half-agreement, half-exasperation.   
''The one time you take off your armour, and you get stabbed. How on earth..'' 

  


''A good reason to never take it off again.'' Cassandra said firmly, and Josephine gave a quiet, amused sound.  
''Never? That would be a pity.'' She asked in a playful, lilting tone, and Cassandra resisted the urge to giggle. _Giggle._ Like a princess in a story. Or an idiot.  


Josephine was incredible.  


***  


''Seeker!''  


She was resting in a cushioned chair in the garden, idling between reading and penning a letter to her Uncle, when Varric sauntered by. He plucked an apple off a nearby nursery tree and bit into it, the crunch and the bitter spray of juice enough to make her mouth water.  
The healers were giving her soft foods so as 'not to put undue strain'' on her stomach.

It sounded like nugshit to her, but she went with it, through days of mashed overboiled potatoes and butter, to every kind of soup under the sun.  
Dorian and Bull seemed to be waging a war against the Kitchens by using guerrilla warfare tactics and sneaking spices into everything, and they were her one saviour through what was otherwise painfully dull meals.  


Varric grinned idly at her, leaning on an arched pillar just out of the suns reach, seemingly enjoying the fact that she couldn't get up and chase him. He took another crunching bite, complete with a lipsmack and a _mm-mmm!_ just to further annoy her.  
''How our favourite angry pincushion?''  


''Shut up Varric.'' She retorted, going back to her letter, and it only struck her later that her tone was sort of fond.  


''So I hear Ruffles was mightly upset when you took one for the team.'' He prompted, and she sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. He was less subtle than she was at times.   
''Most people were. I _was_ stabbed.''

''That too. Some nobles fainted- they hadn't seen that much thigh in their lives.'' His broad face split into the sort of grin she itched to slap from his face, but alas he remained carefully out of her arms reach. 

''Did you want something, Varric?''

''Absolutely- I want to know what happened. Books don't write themselves, you know- not, that I'm writing a book about this, but lets say for hypotethicals, set the scene for me, you're standing on a balcony, staring at the sunset, the smell of honeysuckle in the air, you feel a hand on yours and gaze up into the soft adoring eyes of our own Ambassador-''

''Shut up.'' Cassandra hid her face in her book, getting the strange feeling that she was listening to one of Varrics' smutty stories, only she was in the starring role. 

''I will if you tell me what happened.''  
He wheedled, and she sighed, bookmarking her page with an air of defeat.  
''She kissed me.''

''Go on.''

''We had a falling out. She came to apologise, and we were sharing wine, and talking. And she asked to kiss me.''  
''And you told her Blackwall was probably a better kisser.''  
He deftly dodged the hardcover book that got flung at his temple. 

''And she did.'' Cassandra continued, firmly ignoring him. ''I was going to ask for a dance, but somebody decided they wanted Prince Ignacio dead.''

''Well? Did your heart beat faster? Was there birdsong and magic? You're awful at setting a scene. Did our Seeker actually get giddy?''  
Cassandra glared at him. ''You're awful.''  
''That's a 'yes', isn't it.''  
''Perhaps.''  


''Hmm.'' He flopped down in the chair opposite her, crossed his legs and steepled his fingers. You know, for something that should be so straightforward, you're making this very complicated. '' 

Cassandra raised an eyebrow in his direction, aghast.   
''I make things complicated? ....You're the one seeing a married woman.''

After a silence pause, he held up his hands peaceably.   
''Lets stay above the belt, shall we seeker? ''

''.....I'm sorry.''

''That's all right. But seriously, all this mess to figure out that you liked each other. LIKED. Now you're on an even footing. What's stopping you from, you know, riding off into the sunset for really awkward courting?''

''If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were invested in this.''

''Only because I'm drawn to tragedy. Listen, just talk to her, okay? Figure this shit out. We could all be dead tomorrow.''

***  


After five days, the itching under Cassandra's skin got so bad she had to get up. It took a few tries, and despite protests from nearly everyone involved, she managed to hobble around. As long as she sat down every now and then, and moved slowly with no climbing, she was okay.  
Well, no, she wasn't. It hurt like the knife was still in her, but she was too stubborn to admit defeat.  


That's how she managed to shoulder herself into the first official meeting about the Elven boy. The war table was crowded around, chairs of all various sizes and shapes produced- because a giant military power with gold and influence couldn't possibly afford a decent set of chairs- and everyone talked at once, at the top of their lungs.  
The Seeker was starting to regret her insistence to attend.  


''He's just a boy.'' Cassandra waved off any other protests. ''I could feel his shoulder-bone under his shirt. A starveling. This wasn't an assassination.''

''The Inquisition is a large organisation, fit to be infiltrated. But our spies should have caught him.'' The commander said slowly, stating the obvious, but in a conversation where so many voices spoke at once, a bit of simple clarity was needed to drag them back on-topic.

''He wasn't a spy, Cullen. He was a barely a fighter, only useful because he slipped by so unnoticed.'' Leliana interjected, a cold note in her voice, clearly stung by the idea that someone had gotten past her network. 

''Yeah, big people like you ignore the little folk. Give him a nice word and a coin and boom. Some big shit gets stabbed from outta nowhere.''  
''We will refrain from referring to Prince Ignacio as a _big shit._ '' Josephine eyed Sera, who stuck her tongue out in response.

''I sent word to my contacts elsewhere.'' Leliana brushed a non-existent piece of lint from the table not quite meeting anyone's eyes yet. ''It was possibly the Crows.''

''The Crows? Preposterous. If what I've heard of the crows is half as true, then Ignacio would be dead. Twice.'' Dorian interrupted, drumming his fingertips impatiently on the table, much to the ire of the person who sat beside him.  
''Magisters are not beyond using assassins, believe me, I've seen what they can do.''

''Not unless they didn't want to kill him. What if they wanted to send a message? A crap message, sure, but a message nonetheless.''  
Bull spoke up, and the Inquisitor nodded.

''Yes, that could be it: _We can get to you wherever you are._ It's not an attack, it's a statement.''

''Hmm. The Prince is one of the only prominent Merchant families not associated with the Crows. His competitors likely hired the hit.'' Leliana looked around the table, finally prying her eyes from the wood.  
''According to my sources, there was contention in the Guild over aligning themselves with the Inquisition. Some were heavily opposed to Ignacio's choice. Perhaps due to previous attachments?''

The room fell silent as everyone considered the dark possibilities of the Merchants Guilds aligned with the Ventatori or the Lyrium-added Templars.  
''And the boy?'' Cassandra broke the silence, tearing her mind away from images of a burning Antiva.

''New blood. Perhaps a failed recruit. They clearly didn't care if he was caught.''

''Fortunately.'' Leliana offered. ''I have a contact that may be able to help us. He's no friend to the crows, and knows more about them than anyone.''  
Cullen nodded curtly. ''What is Ignacio saying?''  
''He's calling for a glorified war.'' Josephine sighed. ''He sees the attack as a personal offense and as his allies, he urges the inquisition to engage in a show of camaraderie with him.''  


Cassandra leaned back in her chair and winced at the pull to her stomach.  
''Did you tell him about the ancient insane Magister we have to deal with?''

''Ah...yes, in so many words.. however, he insists. Or we risk a loss of his trade. ''  
''This is ridiculous.''

As it turns out, ridiculous was sort of their forte, these days.

***  


''It wasn't your fault.'' 

She found Leliana in a quiet corner of Skyhold, lighting candles to ward off the dusk. The room was crumbling and bare, but it was quiet, and she suspected that that was what the spy sought. 

''Yes, it was.'' Leliana's voice was even as she stood, blowing out the taper and watching the smoke drift lazily to the ceiling.  
''My spies are what safeguard us from surprise attacks. I will not let more people die because of my lack of foresight.'' 

More people after Justinia. The words rang unsaid between them, and Cassandra suddenly felt older and heavy of heart. Old and tired.  
She reached out, and pressed a hand to Leliana's shoulder, squeezing gently in what she hoped was a comforting manner. 

''I don't blame you.'' She said, and hoped Leliana knew what she meant by it. 

***  


''I'm fine, really.'' She tried to get up, but a disapproving tut from Josephine had her sink back into the pillows of the Ambassadors bed.  


''You were stabbed two weeks ago! And now you're rushing about like a madwoman! If you won't rest then I'll keep an eye on you here.''  


''I miss doing something! Sitting around drives me insane.'' Cassandra grumbled, letting her head flop back on the pillows. The mattress creaked as Josephine perched on the edge of the bed.  
''You need to learn how to let others take care of you.'' The ambassador told her, and Cassandra mustered a tired smile in return. 

''I am terrible at that.''  


''Yes.'' Josie agreed. ''But you'll learn.''  
Something in the way she said that warmed Cassandra's heart, allowing her to pluck up the courage to voice what had been weighting heavy on her mind.  


''Oh the balcony the other week.'' She started hesitantly. ''You kissed me.''  
Josephine's eyes were bright. ''I did. Do you have a dislike for it?''  
''No? No! It's just.. I've been listening to that awful dwarf. He says it took us so long to get here, with so many complications. He told me to talk to you, and Maker knows why I'm listening to him, but.. I wanted to dance with you. The night I was stabbed.''  


Josie thought for a second, reaching up to tuck a short spike of the Seekers dark hair behind her ear.  
''I'll save you a dance, if you wish to ask for another.'' She promised. ''I... don't know what this is, between us. I confess, I care for you, your honour, your romantic side, your cheekbones.'' Her fingertips brushed Cassandra's face, drawing a smile from the Seeker.  


''So, I will save you a dance, and I would like to kiss you again sometime. But the world is ending, and our duties must come first. That is what I can promise for now. We will see where we go from there,yes.''  


In between their talks and comfortable silence, she drifted off, and when she woke, Josephine was curled up beside her, head resting on Cassandra's shoulder. She muttered in her sleep, doing paperwork even in her dreams.  
Cassandra sighed and rested her head atop Josephine's' closing her eyes again.  


If a dance was what they had, then it was enough.  


***  


''So up jumps the Seeker, rising from the crowd of revellers like a Chevalier ready for battle. ''IN THE NAME OF THE MAKER!'' She calls, eyes burning like a righteous fire. And she runs, tearing off the hem of her dress to run faster, brazenly throwing herself between the skilled assassins blade and the cowering Merchant prince.  
''FOR THE HERALD!'' And then pow! Blade still buried between her ribs, she punches the assassin right between the eyes and knocks him flat. Some say Andraste was guiding her hand, for as she stood there, blood dripping to the floor, a martyr to her faith, they were reminded of Andraste herself on the pyre..''  


Varric was such a liar.  
But she stayed, leaning against the stone wall that overlooked the lower courtyard, and listening to the Dwarf spin his tales to a crowd of merchants.  


He was a good liar.


	5. Only Our Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having Josephine gone was almost worth it for all the cute letters.

''My life was threatened!''

Prince Ignacio was spitting venom by the time Cassandra arrived to the meeting, leaning on Blackwalls arm. Maker knew she hated seeming weak, but the Skyhold steps were a killer on the restitched wound, and she had had to pause, head spinning from the pain, til the other warrior had come upon her and offered a hand.

As the prince continued to rant, Blackwall walked her to a chair, and caught her eyes, throwing his eyes skyward before finding a spare space of wall to lean against. She resisted the urge to do the same in return.

''I was attacked for my friendship with the Inquisition, and now it's the Inquisitions turn to prove this alliance by standing by my side in the face of this violence!'' Ignacio was far from done, brandishing his fist like a flamboyant thespian. The entire room had stopped listening minutes ago, but still he ranted. Whether he honestly didn't notice, or was ignoring reality, was hard to tell. 

''Attacked? Seeker took a knife in the gut, you weren't touched.'' Varric drawled from the far side of the table, and was promptly shushed by Josephine, who- clearly tired and fed up- scrambled to regain the Inquisitions poise.  
''Your Highness, we are trying our best to-''

''Your best is not good enough! I am unsafe in your grounds, attacked at my own party. I demand an escort of Inquisition representatives to safeguard my passage. If you are truly friends of Prince Ignacio, you can start by making up for this slight!'' He ranted, moustaches quivering indignantly as he spoke, referring to himself in the third person without the slightest trace of irony. 

Cassandra scowled. ''This is ridiculous, the Inquisition has better things to do than-''

''Of course, Prince Ignacio. We comply to your will.'' The Inquisitor stood, and after a beat, the room exploded into chaos.   
A dozen voices yelled at once, and none louder than Cassandra herself.

''WHAT?''

 

***

 

So the Inquisition, needing Ignacio's trade and influence in Antiva, was sending a bunch of representatives to escort Ignacio back to his homeland. Leliana suggested to use the opportunity to weed out and analyse their enemies. Josephine wanted to make connections with the Crows. 

Cassandra wanted to weep. 

The breach, the Magister, Maker preserve and guide them, did they not have enough problems?

And of course, as a Native Antivan and a bridge between the country and the Inquisition, Josephine had volunteered to go. 

Cassandra flopped her head into her heads, feeling the entire situation slip directly into madness. ''Unbelievable.''

 

***

''You cannot possibly-''

''I can, possibly.'' Cassandra peered down at the mess of red skin and black thread, the wound scabbing ugly and brown. She grimaced and dropped the hem of her shirt, pretending not to notice Josephine glaring at her, quill pressed so hard against the parchment that it had punctured through, spotting black on the ruined page.

''You are injured! Are here you are wanting to run to Antiva? You're... crazy!''

''Perhaps.'' 

''You're hurt! What good will you be to us if you die out there?''

''The world is ending, I'm going to die sooner or later.''

Josie's lips tightened and her brow furrowed. ''You are against this, why the sudden interest?''  
Cassandra could feel herself scowl. ''They made that boy a killer. I resent that. If this charade must be carried out, the Maker does not want children baptised in blood for our deaths.''

Josephine's gaze softened, and there was a quiet sigh. She moved closer with a rustle of skirts, and her hands cupped Cassandra's face for a moment. ''Would you like to know what I admire about you? You have this fire, this burning to do the right thing, and it's wonderful. But we worry for you. I worry. And...'' She hesitated for a moment. ''And I think we are close enough now for you to let me worry, yes?''

Cassandra held her tongue, and nodded.

''You are my friend first, and setting aside this thing between us.. you will always be my friend.''  
Josie's hands were framing her face, her lips close and soft and her breath smelled like the sweetened lemon tea, cooling on her desk. ''And the Inquisition needs you at your best. So promise me you'll take our council and skip this journey. For your health.''

''...Very well.'' She didn't like the idea of sitting idly by like a civilian, but Josie had a point. A weak Seeker was useful in a fight to no-one. 

Besides, the fact that Josie cared enough to ask her was wonderful enough to distract her from arguing.  
And there was something lovely in the knowledge that she could let someone worry for her without feeling weak. So lovely that it almost drowned out the sting in her pride caused by standing down.

''On the condition.'' She heard herself say, heart thudding slowly in her throat as Josie's hands drew her in closer, so close they were nearly brow-to-brow. 

''When you return, I would like that dance.''

''Of course.''

 

***

 

The elf was quiet in his cage, pressed against the back wall like he was trying to ignore the thunderous drop into the open air on the far side of the door. Even though there had been a bed provided, he stayed glued to the wall with every creak the old prison made.

Plates of meals lay untouched in front of him, cold and mouldering in the crisp air. He was a scrawny little thing, and he stank of fear. 

Or shit. But she wasn't judging. 

''What is your name?'' Cassandra asked, sitting down with a soft grunt of pain. The thought of unbalancing and plunging over the edge into the wintery abyss was enough to have her bear contact with the grimy prison floor.  
When she turned to look at the Elf, he was still, eyes riveted firmly away from her like he'd explode into flame if he looked over. 

Silence.

''Your food. We don't poison it. You can eat.''

''Piss off.''  
It was mumbled into his knees, but Cassandra counted it as a win. A reaction.

''I am Cassandra Pentaghast. I am with the Inquisition. You stabbed me.''

''...Wasn't AIMING for you, was I?'' It took a few moments, but a pedantic mumble was her reward.  
She scooped a handful of mashed potatoes from one of the fresher plates and took a bite. It wasn't pleasant, and it earned her a glare, but after a moment, he reached forward and grabbed a handful off the plate, wolfing it down.

''No.'' She continued eventually. ''You were trying to kill the prince, were you not?''

The Elf shrugged through a mouthful of mash, one hand still on the wall, just in case. ''If the bastid gets a knife in the belly, who'd weep?''

''Do you work for the crows?'' 

He choked.

''I'm trying to help.'' She said in the silence that followed. ''You're little more than a boy, they -''  
He pressed his thin lips together and stared at the wall again.

''What's your name?'' She asked again, and after a moments silence, sighed. ''You can make one up, you know.''

''Fine.'' He said after thoughtful pause. ''I'm Cassandra Pentaghast.''  
She stared at him and he stared back.

''That's not quite what I meant.''

''Well that my name now, you want to fight about it, Cassandra the Second?''

''.....excuse me.''

Sera was more than happy to take her place, and after a loud burst of laughter and what seemed to be a bawdy song from the dungeons, she arrived back, slapping a sheet of paper into the Seekers hand.   
The paper did have plenty of information on it, but the first thing that caught her eye was the huge drawing of a bee wearing a codpiece.

She didn't ask.

 

***

 

''So the Elf........''

''Cassandra Pentaghast.'' Cassandra said, through gritted teeth. The inquisitor at least had the grace to try not to look amused. Cullen's face was red from silent laughter.

''I won't ask.'' The Inquisitor decided, turning to Leliana, whose eyes were bright with mirth. ''These names he gave Sera, can you-'

''Already done.'' The spymaster moved around the room, pacing from the bookshelves on one side to the roaring hearth on the other, constantly in motion. If Cassandra didn't know her better, she'd say Leliana was restless. 

''His contacts are low-level members of the crows, working up the chain of command. Orders were delivered anonymously, of course, but the higher-ups will know who sent the orders.''

''And we use Leliana's contact to get us to the higher-ups.'' Cullen added.

Cassandra looked at him and was relieved to see that he looked as fed up as she felt. ''And then we can secure the trade with Ignacio and get back to the Ancient magister?''

Cullen gave her a tired smile. ''Hopefully, but nothing seems to go right these days.''

 

***

 

Antivan sunsets were incredible, according to Josephine. The mass of oranges and reds across the sky was so brilliant that they dwarfed the actual Ferelden sunset that they were watching, from the battlements.

It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to climb the steps, but it was worth it to lean on Josie for support, the ambassadors arm tucked warmly around her waist for support, as they watched the sun dip over the horizon. 

''I miss this.'' Josephine sighed, tilting her face to the sky and closing her eyes, as if she was trying to soak up the last drops of warmth in the air. ''We used to be able to see the sun setting from our home, bright and shining over Antiva city, sparkling on the water..oh, it was lovely. What was it like it Nevarra?''

''...We also had sunsets.'' Cassandra admitted, and Josephine giggled softly and nudged her. 

''Oh come on, I told you! Details!''

Cassandra shrugged, scrounging for memories that didn't involve high windows and cold stone, dulling the light, the smell of mouldering bandages and embalming fluids. 

''The sun would shine into my window once a day, at sunrise.'' She recalled. ''The room would be bright for a few moments. I always woke to see it. I...used to imagine I was going to be rescued by a dashing adventurer, who'd take me off to see the world. Then I imagined Anthony. Then.. I stopped waking for sunrise.''

There was a silence, and she came to the awful realisation that she had taken a perfectly good moment and stamped all over it.

''...I ruined the moment, did I not?'' She asked, risking a glance at Josephine, whose eyes were bright with mirth, looking like she was holding back a laugh.  
''I don't mind. I like hearing about you.'' She said, and Cassandra huffed a small laugh and as the warm arm around her waist squeezed softly.

''It was nice, that moment of sunrise.'' She tried again, unsure of her own words. ''Everything felt bright for a moment.'' Cole's voice echoed in her head for a second. A light to guide you home. 

She didn't know if this was her home, this random bunch of ragtag hooligans and fanatics desperately waging war against an old god. But it was good enough for now. She had friends, a family in Cullen and Leliana, and everyone in the walls, from Bulls flirting to Blackwalls steadfast presence, Vivienne's intelligence, Sera's wit. Even Varric. Everyone here would die for her as she would for them. And maybe that was enough of a home for the time being.  
She rested her heads together, and stared over the mountains.

''I liked to imagine that scholars and princes and warriors and interesting people were seeing the same sunrise, from castles or prisons or Chantrys. But enough about me. Tell me of Antiva city.''

As it turned out, Josie could wax lyrical about her home city for an impressively long time. 

Cassandra didn't mind. Josie got dimples when she was excited about something.

 

***

 

''Your stitches would heal much faster if you let a healer near them, you know, Darling.'' Vivienne was saying, as she neatly set her delicate headpiece on its own little plinth. 

Cassandra slumped, sweaty and exhausted, against the stone balustrade and tried not to look more pathetic than she already felt. A hand of the Divine, defeated by an amble up the stairs. The day before the company left for Antiva, and she couldn't climb a damn stairs. But if she did, she'd feel less useless.

''I'm fine. Have you seen Sera?'' She managed through gritted teeth, and Vivienne gave her a look that was either patronising or pitying. Either would have been accurate. ''Were you a mage, you'd have to watch out for Pride demons, my dear.'' The Iron lady observed, and Cassandra bit back a groan both of pain, and of unwillingness to admit that she was right.

''I already fear Pride demons. Because they're Pride Demons.'' She managed, and Vivienne allowed a small laugh- no, more of a token sound of amusement, before coaxing her into sitting down and letting her suffer in peace.

 

***

 

''The eleven boy. He trusted you.''

She found Sera in the kitchens, filching tarts. 

''Well yeah, course he did. You can't march in there all high-and-mighty-I'm-Lady-whatever, can you?'' Sera was pretty good at speaking through a mouthful of lemon tart, and Cassandra tried not to notice the spray of crumbs. ''He's little people. ''

''....Whatever it was, I want you to visit him again.''

''You what? This better not be a naughty prison visit you got planned, he's got too many bits for me.''

Cassandra forced herself to stay on target. ''He won't trust me.''

''Well yeah, you're terrifying, aint you? Andrastes hairy eyeball and all that.''

''But he will trust you.'' She leaned across and stole the tart from Sera's fingers, taking a bite as Sera cackled in laughter.   
''Look at you! You're an odd one! Alright, I'll go make friends with Mr.Stabby. '' 

 

***

 

''Do you believe in the maker?'' 

In lieu of a proper goodbye, Cassandra was firmly tucked into the couch in Josephine's office and plied with books and sweet teas to stop her from complaining, as Josephine worked late into the night, working up until the last minute to keep the inquisition smoothly running in her absence. 

Josephine looked up from her work, hand stalling on the parchment. ''I believe that faith is important.'' She said eventually. ''It has its drawbacks, yes, but people strive to be kinder under faith. Is the Maker the true faith? I could not say, but I don't think the Avaar beliefs or Elven traditions are any less worthy.''

She paused for a second, as if evaluating her answer, then nodded to herself and went back to writing.

''And all of these faiths.. do they all believe things happen for a reason?''

''A surprising amount, yes. Qunari, less so. But fate plays a large hand, if you'll pardon the pun.'' She giggled to herself, and Cassandra had to fight the urge to roll her eyes and smile. Josephine had awful jokes.

''When this all started, Justinia dead, it was hard to see the purpose. And the chaos has just got worse with Ignacio. Perhaps it seems   
foolish, but I can't shake the hope that the Makers is hand in all this, guiding us.''

Josephine had looked up again, gazing playfully at Cassandra, her cheeks dimpling. ''Are you saying you think we are fated in our paths?''

''I'm saying..'' Cassandra thumbed the book cover idly, hoping that that the double-meaning she caught from that was actually intended. ''That I'd like to find out.''

Josephine beamed at her. ''Read me something.''

She read a chapter of Hard in Hightown, doing the voices where applicable, and even if her accent was deplorable, Josephine's attention was on her til the end.

 

***

 

When she crawled out of her room the next morning, groggy and sleep-stupid, she nearly booted a vase halfway down the hall, but managed to stop herself in time before the door opposite got plastered in pottery shards. Cursing, she managed to stumble and catch herself, before blearily blinking the vase and its contents into vision.

The vase held a handful of wildflowers, blues and pinks bright yellows, and she paused, inhaling the sweet scent. 

It was such a lovely gesture that she spent a full minute admiring the flowers and basking in the romantic flattery before remembering that the Inquisitions forces were heading out at dawn.

''Shit!''

The group were saddling up in the courtyard in their lines when Cassandra caught up to them, hands clutching the bouquet of flowers. The horses stamped and snorted in the crisp morning air, banners flying in the breeze. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and marched by them all, chin up and cheeks red, to stop by Josephine's horse. 

The Ambassador was chatting to Leliana, but fell silent when Cassandra appeared by her side, looking expectantly at her. Cassandra plucked one of the flowers from her bunch, tucking it into the heavy saddle-bag string to the side of Josephine's' mount. 

''..ah..I've heard tales that if an adventurer was given a flower by a lady, that it was meant to be good luck....'' She started, trying not to cringe by how her voice carried in the still courtyard, how everyone seemed to fall silent the moment she spoke. '' I suppose I qualify as a lady.''

Josephine flushed, eyes wide and brimming with something that made Cassandra more embarrassed than she'd ever thought possible, and the Seeker nodded, clearing her throat, and made her escape. 

***

''That was the sappiest thing I've ever seen.'' Varric caught up with her later, nursing her wounds in the Tavern with a bowl of what was supposed to be broth. 'Salted mud with lumps of mystery meat' would also have been an applicable name.

''Yes I'm sure you enjoyed the spectacle.'' She slapped his hand as he reached for the loaf of bread sitting between them and he shot her a   
wounded look.

''Really, Seeker? You're going to eat all that bread by yourself?''

''To spite you.'' She replied, and he grinned. ''That's more like it. C'mon you gotta describe how that moment felt, striding through the lines of horses, offering flowers to the lady, a romantic speech.... I want to add it into one of my books.''

''....You had better not-''

''Oh don't fret, it's not about YOU, exactly, you just inspired me. It's actually about a hideous mountain troll that falls in love with fair maiden.''

''You'll find it hard to eat that bread when I shove it-''

Varric laughed, and moved the plate of bread out of her reach.

 

***  
 __  
''Cassandra Pentaghast,  
I wish you were here to see the sunsets. We're on the border and already they're magnificent.   
The Chargers have already spotted scouts watching us. I so rarely get to be in the middle of the action- night watches, patrols, the threat of danger. I find it all rather thrilling.  
I realise you probably can't reply, but I would like you to know that I'm thinking of you. Your poor flower wilted in the saddle-bag, but I pressed it as best I could. If a ladies gift is worth luck, then a Seekers gift is surely worth more.

_I hope you're taking care of yourself.''_

_-Josephine.  
_

 

The letter was read three times consecutively, then put into a small box under her bed where she kept her romance novels.   
It was shortly afterwards taken out and read again.

The next letter, a week or two later, had some pressed flowers with it. Cassandra had to nearly smuggle it off the bird before the administration actually took the tactical information the ravens were carrying.

 

__  
Dear Cassandra:  
We're into Antiva by a few weeks now. I forgot how much I loved the sun, but everyone else seems to be suffering. I missed my own language, the countryside and the colours. Little old ladies in the towns we pass through remind me of my own grandmother.   
Only now that I'm back here do I realise that it felt awful to look at a sea of faces and not recognise yourself in any of them. 

_As for the flowers, I saw these and thought of you. I forgot their names, but it's lucky for a lady to send flowers, and if we're both ladies, that must be twice as lucky. Often in my thoughts,_

_-Josephine.  
_

 

At the next exchange of information, the next note arrived.

 

__  
Cassndra;  
Got a lot of an tivan wine tonight an the charger and singEINg theyre very good. Bull syas he thnks youd be soft without your armour on nd now Im thinknig about soft bellies.   
You lips are soft. Kisemd them on the blocny. Soft soft.   
Kissed evverone on cheek. Lots of hugs. Here's a cheek-kiss for you.   
Josie 

 

The paper was printed with a kiss. After she'd finished laughing, she tucked in into her breast pocket of her tunic and went about her day. The thought of Josie, drunk out of her mind, and still thinking of her, was enough to get her through Varrics worst jokes.

The next letter arrived shortly afterwards, and was a little more formal. 

 

_Dear Cassandra:_

_Leliana informed me that I made her send you a letter whilst I was under the influence of a lot of wine. She won't tell me what it says and smiles infuriatingly every time I ask her. I will profess my shame in not quite knowing what I wrote, but know that it involved a laviscous conversation with the Iron Bull that must have been quite a shame to read.  
Please, accept my apologies._

_(And if you found it flattering, know that I meant every word.)_

_-Josie_

This was sent with another pressed flower, a delicate, deep purple blossom.

Cassandra debated it for a few days, before writing a letter to the Requisitions officer in the Farm camp in the hinterlands, asking them to find that Arbor Blossom for her. 

A flower from a lady, for a flower from a lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is a bit ..weird for me. I sort of lost motivation halfway through so I'm not entirely happy with it, but if I don't post it now, I never will.   
> I've got a general plot for the rest of the fic though, so motivation should get better.
> 
> Enjoy the schmoop!


	6. The First Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the two of them didn't know was that in her Offical position as Spymaster, Leliana was reading all their letters, and telling the funny bits to her ravens.

Lady Josephine:  
I received a rather curt letter from Leliana telling me that I can reply and it won't be a burden to the ravens.  
I get the feeling that it was, in fact, a threat.  
So here I am. Replying.  
The flowers were nice, thank you. I have quite a collection now.  
Skyhold is the same.

-Cassandra Pentaghast.

***

Dear Cassandra:

It was so lovely to hear from you, it's only been travel and complaining here for weeks. Everyone seems unhappy and tired.  
We're so near Antiva City now, and the sooner we are rid of Ignacio the better. Oh, I know I should say kinder things, but he is lecherous to the servants and no amount of diplomacy has deterred him. I wish you were here, you were never bothered by diplomacy.  
I'm so excited to be back in Antiva, the smell of leather workshops is still disgusting, and I love it.  
When you're gone long enough, you love even the awful things from home. They do this bread with herbs here and it's incredible, I've missed it so. 

I hope to have time to meet my family after Ignacio is returned home.  
But enough about me, how are you, are you healing well? And everyone else? Tell me everything.

-Josephine

***

''Happy, but the happiness is sad too. Happiness is only happy because of sadness, bittersweet. Home is only good to return to when you've been away to miss it.''

''I'm busy, Cole.''

***

Josephine:

Everyone here is well. We're all restless.  
Sera has mooned Vivienne no less than four times since you left, and Cole keeps saying odd things to me. I feel for the demon, or boy, or whatever he calls himself, but it's highly unsettling. I think he thinks he's trying to help. He is not helping.  
He appeared behind me in the stables only yesterday and I nearly ran him through.  
The wound is healing well, I was even able to spar last week. Cullen will be glad to know his recruits are just as dismal now that he's away.  
Have you seen your family yet?

-Cassandra.

***

Dear Cassandra:  
Today we met with Leliana's contact. He's a wonderful character, an ex-crow I believe, and terribly flirty.  
He gets along terribly well with Iron Bull. The innuendo's are quite awful.  
Ignacio hosted a banquet for us, mainly to show us off to the other Princes. We're in trade negociations, but he's stalling untill we make sure he's safe from competitors.  
Some days I miss the exciting world of being a bard... though I confess I love diplomacy too much to quit it now. 

I have been to see my family, and they were all well....however, they seem infuriatingly convinced that I would love nothing more than to be married. I have told them that I have a suitor to deter them from that process. I hope you do not mind too much.

-Josie.

Ps. Zevran says to say 'hello' to Varric.

***

''Sweet, succulent fruit, happy thoughts of other days, bowls of food on sunny verandas, sand between toes. Mother scolds me for eating the whole bowl.''

''Cole, get out of my room!''

 

****

Josie:  
I do not mind at all. In fact, it is a little flattering. Though I suppose your family would wish your suitor were a man.  
I know of the man you speak about, Varric told me of him while we were..discussing the tale of the Champion. From what I remember, he's genuine enough, for a crow. The stories Varric has told us about him would be enough to make even a heathen blush. 

But then again, he's starting to tell increasingly creative stories about us, the horrible dwarf.

I am rambling. If Leliana trusts the Crow, then I trust her.  
Cole keeps telling me odd things. I'm finally able to wear my armour again and I found him hiding in the armour cupboard, talking about fruit. 

Yours,  
-Cassandra,

***

Dearest Cassandra:  
I'm so glad. My mother has been asking about you when I visited today. We sat in the sun and talked, and she wouldnt stop pressing for details. I made the mistake of saying you were Nevarran royalty, and they asked when the wedding was.  
Maker help me, I told them that I met a suitor so lovely during a dance that we have pledged each other another, but sadly, circumstance has gotten in the way.  
They thought it was very romantic, and I suppose it was.

It made me think, in truth. I miss Skyhold, and my office, and the little cakes and my own quill, and our friends. But I miss you, in a different way. I miss the thrill of uncertainty, the delicate dance around what is prudent and what we want.  
I admire you a great deal, Cassandra, and I wish for our dance to come sooner. If the world was not in such turmoil, it would be a lot easier to spend time together and figure out our odd little predicament, but we'll figure it out, I think.

Ps. Cole is likely feeling unsettled by Skyhold being so empty. Be kind to him.

PPS. If it's possible, if you would be comfortable for our dance, I would quite like to see you back in a lovely dress. I truly didn't get the opportunity to admire you last time.

PPPS. Tell Varric to save a copy of those stories. I'm curious.

My warmest thoughts,  
-Josephine.

 

***

Josephie:

I confess I am not the best at courting. Whenever I thought of romance I imagined it with a man.  
I had never imagined myself with feelings for another woman, and I am struggling in how to act sometimes. I am sure you notice.  
But I am trying. This has been a mess of over-thinking and strange, wonderful things. But I want to see where this leads us..  
I miss spending time with you too, and it took me five tries to write this letter. Varric would have a feild-day.  
I will try to be more civil to Cole, for you. I won't deny, he is odd, whatever he is, but there's no harm in him.

And I will suffer another dress, if you wish. Though I cannot promise I wont be wearing armoured boots.

Yours  
-Cassandra.

***

''Happy, happy, too happy, wrong and too-soft.''  
Cole was whimpering, his knuckles raw from knocking when she stumbled out of her warm bed to pull the door open.  
''Too bad, too cruel. It's not happy if there's no sad.''

''Cole, what on earth are you saying-'' She yawned irritably,, rubbing a hand over his eyes and TRYING to remember what it felt like to be alive before dawn. There had been a lovely dream of red dresses and a smiling mouth, but it was slithering fast into the recesses of her mind, never to be seen again.

''Too happy, bright and warm and content, no pains to heal, don't like it.'' Cole told her, shaking and she wondered if it would be rude to just go back to sleep and forget this.

It was far too early for this.

''Then find someone else to help, Skyhold is full of people in need.''

''The worries went away, I cant find them, they're not fixed, just GONE. Smothered.'' The poor thing was nearly hyperventilating, blunt nails scratching anxiously at the back of his own hand, and she relented and draped his shoulders in a blanket til he calmed down, patting his shoulder awkwardly.  
When he did, his clammy hands slowly relaxed, revealing a crumpled sheet of paper with a smudged, familiar mark.

''Cole!'' She snatched Josephine's letter, cheeks burning furiously. ''How dare-''

''I can feel them from the page.'' Cole said, his eyes wild, and she thought of a time when he told her that her uncle missed her, just from reading a letter from him. And maybe she thought, he might be telling the truth.

Maker, what was she doing? Listening to a demon's nonsense, if a younger, more brash Cassandra had heard that this is what she'd be doing, the reaction...

Wait.  
''.....feel them. Them? ...The others. Josephine. Leliana.''  
The room felt like the warmth had been sucked out of it in one fell swoop. Maker's ass, he had been telling her about Josephine the whole time, and she-

''Yes. Too happy. Too happy. Not right.''

''Cole, they're probably drunk.'' She said, hopefully. ''They're happy, it-''

''No! I know what drunk feels like, wine dancing on the tongue, happy bubbles in the head, frowns in the belly the next morning. Revisiting old lunch. This is a forced smile, too happy, too happy. You know forced smiles, the ones that hurt teeth, that shake so they're not seen. Too happy, too wrong, the smile, the happiness, all wrong.''

Cassandra headed for the door, grabbing a robe over her pyjamas as her head spun. ''I'll send a raven.''

No raven returned. Neither did the next raven. Or the next.

After the third raven didn't return, Cassandra saddled a horse and left for Antiva.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt for a Tumblr ask meme that I ...went a little overboard on.  
> I want to make this into a sort of little series detailing Josephine and Cassandra's romance, so here it is!
> 
> Basically, I'm writing my Thesis project for college as a Screenplay about a Lesbian couple, so this is me practising femslash with a couple I have a soft spot for!
> 
> Every chapter is named after a quote from the Chant of Light, because I'm cheesy like that.


End file.
